Page 90 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
“That gown is perfect,” Eleanor said. “I knew blue would be your color, but then I suppose you were already aware, given your nickname. Don’t tell anyone to call you Bluebell, though.That will put them in absolutely the wrong state of mind. You’re a lady now. And ladies have proper names.”
Maybelle’s hands tightened in her lap. Her borrowed corset made it difficult to slouch, which was good. But she also couldn’t breathe right, which made her feel overly hot. As well, her hair was now a heavy coiffed presence upon her head. She feared she’d topple from the weight.
“And don’t really eat anything. You’re not plump, which is excellent, but the food is for Lord and Lady Cavener. Sip your tea if you must. And keep smiling!”
Since she could barely breathe, the last thing she wanted was to fill her stomach.
“Don’t forget to curtsy when they enter. You are being presented to them. Get to your—”
“Tell me another story about Mr. Hallowsby,” she interrupted.
“What?”
“It will help pass the time. I’m trying not to be nervous,” she lied. She was trying to breathe. “And listening relaxes me.” Another lie. Still, she was intensely curious about him. Not even half of what people said about Eleanor’s brother was true. It couldn’t be. No one killed a bear with his own fists, and certainly not at six years old. With every story, she tried to guess what was true and what was fabrication.
“You’ve already heard about the bear when he was a child,” Eleanor said. Then a miracle happened. The woman sat down! “Have I told you about the French spy?”
“The man?”
“No, no. There have been scores of those, one can hardly keep track. And mostly, he knocks them out and drags them to the Home Office. I mean the woman.”
“A female spy?” She couldn’t believe it. Not that women couldn’t learn secret things. Of course they could. She doubteda man could catch a female spy. No one looked closely at maids or cooks. And if the woman was beautiful? Well then, the men completely lost their heads.
“He only caught one. No matter what anyone says, there was only the one.”
Maybelle took a deep breath, feeling her emotions settle as Eleanor began talking. The woman loved telling Bram tales, which was lucky, since Maybelle adored hearing them. “Was she pretty?”
“Ravishing. She would slip into important men’s bedrooms at night, seduce them, and then steal their papers. Quite evil, that woman.”
“She’d sneak in?”
“Well, she was a beauty. And if she couldn’t drug them insensate, she would get them in the usual way.”
“But Mr. Hallowsby caught her.” She leaned forward, being careful with her words. Even in the midst of a rousing tale of spies and seduction, Eleanor would pick on her accent. “How did he do it?”
“He pursued her all over the Continent. Down into Africa even. Took years.”
“But how did he know?”
“Oh, you know Bram. He deduced it from his friends. All he had to do was hear about a battle gone wrong, and he knew there was a seductress. The problem was catching her.”
Well, that was patently untrue. Even she knew that. “What did she look like?”
“No one really knows. She wore wigs and the like. One day she’d be a meek Scottish maid, the next, a dark-skinned Ethiopian princess. But Bram caught her when she was playing a sultan’s wife all covered in robes.”
“What was a sultan’s wife doing in England? Or were they on the Continent?”
“That’s just it. She was right here in London and planning to assassinate the king!”
How she adored these tales! None of them made sense. Why would a woman dress as a sultan’s wife when trying to assassinate the king? And what good would it do for Napoleon to kill their mad king? The king had nothing to do with planning battles. Even the Prince Regent left it to the military men. And yet a woman as smart as Lady Eleanor seemed to take these tales as complete truth.
“I only heard that part,” Eleanor continued. “I have my doubts about dressing as a sultan’s wife. And though Bram has disappeared for months at a time, I doubt it truly took years.”
Good that Eleanor wasn’t completely gullible. “So what part are you sure of?”
“I know he was in the bedchamber of Mrs. Wulfson when he heard the noise. Many would claim that it was Lady Baney, but that liaison had nothing to do with spying.”
Oh. “But how do you know it was Mrs. Wulfson?”
